


Fitting In The Spaces Between

by coffeeincluded



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: But something like this would definitely happen in my AU!, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Multi, My First Smut, Oral Sex, Please Don't Hate Me, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, SOMEONE has to feed this rarepair might as well be me!, Sweet and awkward sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, eventually, here come the dirty tags, no beta we die like Glenn, not part of my au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeincluded/pseuds/coffeeincluded
Summary: Beautiful. They call her beautiful.If someone ever told Bernadetta that she would leave her room with only a trace amount of fear, that she would never have to worry about her father again, that she would fight alongside the Emperor in a war to set humanity free, that she would have friends, that she would have not one but two lovers, well Bernadetta would have probably slammed the door in their face and broken down into a hysterical laugh-cry.But now? She can believe it.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley, Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 13
Kudos: 152





	Fitting In The Spaces Between

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this. But someone's gotta feed the rarepair, so...Here I am! Writing porn. I've never written straight-up porn before, and I have no idea what I'm doing and this came out in one big burst and ahaha please give advice but be gentle? 
> 
> I'm just going to slam this PWP down and run off into the night.
> 
> I really hope you all enjoy?

Even two years ago, if someone ever told Bernadetta that she would leave her room with only a trace amount of fear, that she would never have to worry about her father again, that she would fight alongside the Emperor in a war to set humanity free, that she would have friends, that she would have not one but _two_ lovers, well Bernadetta would have probably slammed the door in their face and broken down into a hysterical laugh-cry.

But all those things happened, and she left her room. She had friends, people she could confide in. Dorothea who shared jokes and stories and fears about the war and battles that scuffed at their souls even as they made the air sing with lightning and arrows. And she had lovers. Plural. Ferdinand, the very incarnation of the sun itself, bright and warm and almost overwhelming from the sheer force of his personality. And, more recently, Hubert. _Hubert,_ dark and frightening, who reveled in his façade of murderous intent. But as much as he was violent and dark and brutal, he was also caring and loving and considerate. He didn’t want to scare her. He wore the flower she made for him right next to the embroidered eagles she made for everyone in the Strike Force. Kept wearing that bright red flower even after he didn’t need to anymore (he was still frightening on the battlefield or when leaning into his intimidation but now she knew what he tasted like, knew the glorious sounds he made when she or Ferdie or both of them together coaxed him to release). And although Ferdinand was better at encouraging her and pushing her to be more outgoing and practice at being the big brave bear he knew she was, Hubert’s more measured attitude was better at telling when she truly had too much and needed an inside day to recharge. 

Like today. The last battle had been far too close. Ferdinand had charged on ahead to defend an over-enthusiastic Caspar who had left himself exposed and found himself in the middle of a magical ambush. He flung himself over Caspar to protect the excitable young man but that meant exposing his back to the magical flames. Thank goodness he had insisted that both she and Hubert learn how to ride horses. They were able to close the gap and obliterated the Kingdom mages with arrow and spell alike, but not before Ferdinand had sustained some serious burns that took Linhardt hours to heal.

Those burns still showed pink and shiny on his back as Ferdinand leaned back on a pillow next to her and Hubert in her room. She’d cast the blanket off of her bed and spread it out on the floor. They all sat around it, a little picnic in her room where they could just sit and eat and talk and kiss. Ferdinand had started this back in their halcyon school days, just sat in her room and made a little picnic when the world outside was too overwhelming, and when Hubert eventually started reaching out and joining in, when they all eventually confessed their burgeoning feelings for each other and let him in, it was the most natural feeling in the world.

Cheese and cracker crumbs scattered over the blanket, but she could always shake it out later. Besides, they had gotten much worse on the cloth before, Bernadetta remembered with a blush.

“What are you thinking of, my little sundew?” Ferdinand said with a smile, his long orange locks fanning out around him as he reclined against her desk. Neither she nor Hubert could keep their eyes off him, even when Hubert’s gloved fingers played along her bare ones. He never wanted to take them off, even though she now found the charcoal-black magical backlash snaking up his arms to be stunning. They all had their scars, and she got it. She didn’t like showing them much either. Although having Hubert kiss his way up the scars on her hand and wrist, Ferdinand stroke the reminders of lightning on her back while murmuring against her heart…it was okay.

She was okay. She was someone worth loving. The world was big and scary, but…it didn’t always have to be.

“I’m, um…” She blushed and broke off into a stammer. Hubert’s hand squeezed hers and she took a deep breath. This wasn’t anything new by now, but she hesitated a little bit every time. “Thinking about you, and me, and Hubie, and…you know…”

Hubert lifted her hand up to his lips and oh she could feel the smirk—his version of a soft teasing smile—against her sensitive fingertips, even under the callouses from years of archery and lancework. His breath was warm as it ghosted against her fingertips and _oh_ now Ferdinand was running his thumb along the knuckles of her other hand. “Are you thinking of anything in particular?” he asked and every movement of his lips sent a tiny shiver through her. She curled her other hand up to stroke against Ferdinand’s palm.

She was thinking of a lot of things—the warmth of both of them against her, the buttery smoothness of Hubert’s gloves compared with his magic-scarred fingers, the way Ferdinand’s hair would make a curtain around them as he lowered himself onto her. The way the three of them fit into the spaces of each others’ lives. They brought out her confidence, her bravery. She helped Ferdinand moderate himself, helped Hubert acknowledge that he did, in fact, have a heart capable of feeling trust and love for others outside Edelgard. They sometimes talked about it, tangled up in each other, flush with afterglow.

“Bernadetta,” Ferdinand had said as he idly stroked up and down her side, Hubert curled around him but his long arms able to reach around them both, “if not for you, I believe Hubert and I would still be carrying on our ridiculous feud. We have you to thank for this.”

Such praise was too much for her and she couldn’t do more than squeak in embarrassment into the curve of his neck, but that was months ago. And now, as Ferdinand stroked her hair while Hubert reverently kissed each of her scars while the two of them played with each others’ hands, well…

She could believe it.

“Can we, um…move to the bed?” It was still so embarrassing to say why was it so embarrassing to say? She’d slept with _both_ of them before, had watched the two of them lose themselves in each others’ bodies while she ground down into her own hand, had pleasured one of them while the other watched and sometimes directed, had, ahhhh what were they going to do now? The thrill of anticipation shot through her and she reflexively lowered her head.

It was still…it was a thing even after all these years, unlearning all the stuff she had been taught about being a dutiful submissive wife, how she wasn’t allowed to have any desires of her own. Situations as intimate and raw as this always threatened to bring the scars of her youth flaring back up. But with their help she was getting better at smoothing them down almost every time.

It was still sometimes difficult and overwhelming to say what she wanted in such _detail_ though, especially right in the moment. Often she would write things out, or dial it down to short “yeses” and “nos.”

Ferdinand tried to scramble to his feet, but drew up short with a wince and a hiss of healing injuries. She and Hubert looked at each other and oh thank goodness Hubert took it from there. “How about you simply watch this time and indulge yourself?”

“Nonsense! I am perfectly capable of—Ah! Owhh, no I am perfectly fine,” he attempted to deflect, with even poorer results this time.

“Ferdie, please,” she said. “You’re hurt, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to make us feel good.”

“I’m perfectly capable of doing that on my own,” Hubert murmured into her ear and _oh_ her body shivered with anticipation. This was going to feel so good she just knew it.

Ferdinand spluttered his indignation. “You truly think you are better at pleasing Bernadetta than I am! Hubert, you—”

Bernie clapped her hands to her face. “S-Stop fighting over me!” She giggled and the rush fizzled through her like a sudden rush of ice cold air after the sauna. Ferdinand and Hubert were _fighting_ over her, they thought she was attractive enough to _fight_ over her this was crazy, how could she poor sad Bernie be alluring enough to _fight_ over—

Hubert pressed his mouth to hers, silencing her spiral. She darted her tongue into his mouth, tasted him—coffee, cologne, the faint sulfur of dark magic and iron tang of blood. She heard Ferdie’s shaky exhale, her and Hubert’s soft moans as she pressed deeper into the kiss. What did she taste and smell like to them?

Her hands met Ferdinand’s as they undid Hubert’s cloak, unbuttoned his clothes and slowly exposed his chest with the slight softness and occasional scars. Ferdie was doing a good enough job of undressing Hubert on his own; Bernie satisfied herself by tracing her fingers along bare skin, running them up and down his sternum, slowing when she could feel the apex of his heartbeat. She kissed him, on his lips, on the tip of his nose, the angle of his mandible just before it curved up to meet his ear. She kissed Ferdie too, drank down his taste (sweat and hay and tea), sucked kisses along the freckles dusting his shoulders. As her arousal grew so did her daring, and she pushed herself forward to suck kisses along Hubert’s neck, the dip of his clavicle, the ridge in his throat. Hubert’s skin was hot under hers and as she settled in his lap to kiss him more thoroughly, she could feel him hard against her.

She did this to him, she realized with her head spinning (not for the first time, not for the last, but it was a heady rush every single time). Him and Ferdie too, if the flush on his cheeks and the sudden bulge in his trousers was any indication. Pleased them, satisfied them, made them want _more_ of her.

And she wanted them too.

“Clothes off,” Bernie panted, and they already obliged. They kissed her, and they kissed her, and she kissed them in turn as they peeled off her clothes and she carefully folded Ferdinand’s coat (because he cared about that coat even when he didn’t care about that coat) before tearing off his shirt with abandon. Until finally, _finally,_ Hubert undid her bra and the wraps fell free. Bernie blushed, but she no longer felt the initial terrified instinct to cover her suddenly exposed breasts. Not anymore. The soft smile and longing on Ferdinand and Hubert’s faces though, those were the same as when they first saw her topless, all those months ago.

“Flames, you’re beautiful,” Ferdinand murmured into her mouth, one hand laced into her hair and the other gently kneading at her breast. Beautiful, beautiful, he though she was beautiful, but _he_ was beautiful, Ferdinand with his sun-kissed hair and dusting of freckles and relentless optimism, Hubert with his sharp cheekbones and piercing green eyes and endless wellspring of devotion and love carefully hidden away except for those few he trusted the most. _They_ were beautiful.

She closed her mouth and leaned into the kiss, whimpered into the soft heat of Ferdinand’s mouth as she felt Hubert kiss her other breast, tongue laving at her, sucking gently as his other hand trailed lower. Down her navel, skimming over the coarse hair below, to cup gently between her thighs.

Bernie shuddered and gasped just as Ferdinand pulled back to watch. It was one thing to know she was wet, and another thing entirely to feel Hubert’s scarred-dark fingers gliding between her folds with no effort or resistance at all.

“More, she likes it more when you crook your finger like—yes, like that,” Ferdinand panted in tune with her as Hubert obeyed and _yes just like that there there there_ she gasped. It took too long for her to realize that she had said that out loud, her vocabulary quickly whittled down to a chorus of gasps and pleas and begging for more as he stroked over her entrance, dipped a finger into her wetness and rubbed along her clit.

She opened her eyes to see Hubert and Ferdinand both gazing at her with absolute adoration, Ferdinand tugging down Hubert’s trousers with one hand while—when had his come off? She was so lost in the sensation that she had not noticed Ferdie cast the last of his clothes onto the floor—he shamelessly stroked himself with the other.

It should be disgusting, the one wild gibbering part of her mind that could be quelled but never completely silenced, whispered. But here and now, in this heady space of arousal and _yes yes there Hubert Ferdinand more please more!_ the sight of Ferdinand panting as he masturbated to the sight of her getting off under Hubert’s touch, the way Hubert hissed as she dipped her hand into his smallclothes, closed it around his hot length, and drew it out for the three of them to see? For Ferdinand to join her in stroking Hubert’s cock, running a thumb along the tip where moisture beaded up? It was exhilarating.

Her legs fell open without any input from the higher parts of her brain. Bernie felt Hubert run one of those roughened fingers down her face, climb up that notch between her parted thighs, and—

“Wait.” Hubert instantly drew back, sitting on his heels. He was patient, serious, at attention for whatever she needed from him. Well, certain parts of him were _certainly_ at attention. One could even say sweating from the effort of standing at attention for _so hard and so long_ , Bernie thought with a wild giggle in the back of her head. Ferdinand also paused mid-stroke, hand squeezing the tip as a little bit of precum dribbled onto his fingers.

“I…” She turned around, settled in Hubert’s lap with her back against his chest, unconsciously ground down. Both she and Hubert let out a hiss as she slid along his erection. “If Ferdie’s going to watch then we should, we should,” _say it out loud Bernie dammit you can do this!_ “Should give him a show, right?”

Oh holy hell Ferdinand’s cock actually jumped in his hand. “But Bernadetta, I thought you did not like that position?”

“I prefer others, yes,” she babbled, “But it’s more because I’m worried that you’ll fall out or something more than anything else. And I want you to feel good seeing us, you know?” she ended in a squeak.

“Well then,” Hubert purred, and his low voice made her shiver, made her grind along him again. “Let’s give Ferdinand a show he shall not forget?”

Her whole body eased as she slid herself down his length; when she finally bottomed out and sat flush against his lap Bernadetta let out a sigh and sank her back into his arms. Hubert groaned above her and behind her, just held her close as she got used to the sensation of him filling her, hot and hard and _him_ , the way his cock twitched with every breath and every movement and how those twitches felt like little pinpricks running against her spine.

And then he kissed her neck, drew his hips back, snapped into her and _oh fucking flames._

What did Ferdinand see as Hubert fucked her from behind, what did he see that had his eyes blown wide and his hand gripped against his hard dripping cock? Was it the flush on their faces? The way he rubbed her breasts or the way she kissed his chin? Was it the way their bodies joined? The way he could see Hubert ramming into her, the way she could feel herself clenching around him as he slid out and thrust back into her? The way her back arched and her head fell back against his shoulder? The way Hubert curled around her? She could feel her legs falling open with every thrust, almost to the point of pain if not for all the time they rode horses together, could feel the way her clit peeked out from between her spread lips and the way Hubert drove up into her.

“Perfect, Bernie you’re perfect, I wish, ah, wish you could know just how amazing you feel,” Hubert panted, trying and failing to speak in coherent sentences. He was still doing a better job than her though. And definitely a better job than Ferdinand, who was leaning in closer as if he wanted to see nothing else in the entire world but the two of them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ferdinand whispered up to them, but she could feel his breath hot and wet mere inches away from the juncture of their bodies and oh no he wasn’t was he.

Ferdinand pressed the wet flat part of his tongue against her clit and she _screamed._

It was so much, it was _so good_. Hubert fucking up into her and Ferdinand lapping at her clit, licking up and down her spread-open vulva, running his tongue along the inches of Hubert’s cock as they thrust in and out of her, a wet smile on his face as he drank her and Hubert's arousal down. He buried his face into her, licked and stroked at her and Hubert as if he were a starving man. Hubert whispered her name into her ear and rammed his cock into her again and again, and Ferdinand kept licking her, took her into his warm wet mouth, stroked and _sucked_ at her and, and,

 _“Fer—ah! Haa—haa—haa—”_ She came with a ragged cry, eyes squeezed shut as she bucked wildly in Hubert’s lap. She felt him pop out of her, heard a wet smack, then the sound of Ferdinand’s glorious mouth followed by Hubert’s desperate groan. And more noises besides, but she was floating on one of the most intense orgasms she had had in quite some time and couldn’t bring herself to care about anything.

Bernie slowly drifted back down to earth, a leaf falling from a tree, panting and trembling in Hubert’s lap as he slowly stroked her sweaty face and hair. She opened her eyes to see Ferdie wiping his mouth and, and,

“Heeheehee, Ferdie!”

“What?”

She should have been embarrassed. Maybe it was because of the afterglow, but she _wasn’t._ It was just too funny. “You, you look!”

He looked _ridiculous_. A wet smear in the perfect shape of Hubert’s now-softening cock shone against his cheek from where it smacked against his face, and Hubert’s cum dribbled out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin. And, somehow, Ferdinand himself had managed to make an even bigger mess. Somewhere in the middle of his release he had come all over his own chest, her and Hubert’s legs, her sheets, _everywhere._

They were all a dripping sweaty mess and the room stank of sex and their picnic lay forgotten on the floor covered in discarded clothes and Bernie curled up on the bed howling with laughter. Hubert and Ferdinand were quick to join her once they realized the sheer absurdity of the situation, and where once his low ominous laughter would have terrified her, where once she would have found Ferdinand overwhelming?

Now? As they laughed and Ferdinand pulled her into his lap and kissed her laughing mouth? As Hubert procured a towel from somewhere and gently cleaned her and Ferdinand off? Or at least started to before Ferdinand interrupted him and pulled Hubert into their impromptu cuddle pile?

It felt sweet, and right.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I did this. It was kinda fun though. Hopefully it'll be better next time! Which might not be for a while, but eh we'll see!


End file.
